Rhistmaege

Unhorsed

Two hooded blue orbs broke through the suffocating darkness. Professor Orbillister Puck didn't like much. Residing at the top of his sky-scratching list of irritations was the unforgivable act of sleeping during class. The old man's gold spectacles framed the glistening ire in his eyes.

"T-I-M-E," spat Puck. Each letter plucked from his gullet, like a jagged fishhook torn through Dovi's soul.

"Can anyone here put a value on time? Anyone care to guess?" His head snapped from left to right and back again. His bony hand pinched Dovi's upper arm.

Students whipped up vacant stares. Downcast eyes studied creases in leather shoes. Dusty corners of the room were explored with diligence.

Dovi cursed himself for falling sleep. When Rabby woke him in the morning it seemed he had just closed his eyes. Excitement about the Prince's pin had carried him for a bit, but his body desperately needed rest. Maybe he'll let this slide, considering the scholarship.

"If you valued me as much as you worshiped your Mahtii, I'd be High King. My breath comes from a limited pool of Orbillister Puck golden essence. You, Dovinicus MaCabre, have crumpled my valuable gift of breath and tossed it into the wastebasket." Puck waved his hand angrily in front of his bird chest.

"Your Professor is not a petty, vindictive man. I'm an opportunist. What do I always say to do when one raises their arse and showers you with their opinion of your worth?"

"Turn their filth into faith," droned the class. The girls screwed up their nose at the Professor's uncouth imagery.

"Then pinch their cheeks and kick them to Heolor. That'll teach them." Puck gave a quick nod to nobody in particular. "In light of the theft of Earned Rhist from Wydenhall last night, we are in need of replenishment of our supplies. I repeat, anyone who has information on the Rhist heist last night must come forward. For now, Dovinicus has volunteered to assist in countering this nefarious depletion. Who would like to join him in a round of Mental Jousting?" He surveyed the class.

Doomed.

There was an unwritten rule at Wydenhall: Any school event, exhibition or competition involving Dovi required ALL students to provide Lebonicus Lane a five second window to decide if he was interested in pummeling or humiliating Dovi that day.

Five, four, three, two.....  Dovi caught a slight movement in his peripheral vision.

"Excellent! Dovi and Lebonicus, to the front of the class. Take your seats while I bring out the Mind Managers."

Institutions of learning were the top source of Earned Rhist, providing The Crown's Rhistlock, the Division of Magical Combatants, and Rhistwall, the Department of Magical Defense, with vast quantities of power. Folk always looked at this arrangement with a queer eye, but those who became too vocal, throwing out words like abuse and corruption, calling the Crown unfortunate names like Vampires, Leaches or Liches, often just poof, disappeared. Nobody voiced their concerns publicly anymore, but behind closed doors was another matter. The people of Wroughton Grove tolerated the Crown an itchy wool sweater. Some things are better left alone.

Puck returned from the small closet at the front of the class. He locked the door behind him, and carried a rectangular tray over to the table next to his disheveled desk. He placed the tarnished silver tray down and fumbled with his key ring. Two latches on either side of the tray's silver cover clicked open.

Dovi and Lebonicus sat facing each other at the table ends. Lebonicus dug his meaty elbows into the knotty pine and leaned forward. Dovi's eyes drifted to the large bandage covering the side of his neck. At least he paid a bit this time.